


Whirlwind

by Severina



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Community: tamingthemuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 18:50:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl leans against the side of the truck, rocking with the motion and staring at the dumb fucker who dropped the damn key.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whirlwind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's tamingthemuse community, for the prompt "maelstrom". Gapfiller for Ep.103, 'Tell It To The Frogs', as Daryl et al head to Atlanta to rescue Merle.
> 
> * * *

Daryl leans against the side of the truck, rocking with the motion and staring at the dumb fucker who dropped the damn key. Sumbitch won’t meet his eyes. Probably scared shitless, and he oughta be. You got the whole wide expanse of a damn roof, just how fuckin’ incompetent do you have to be to drop somethin’ in the one single opening that’s up there? If he didn’t know better, he’d think it’s ‘cause the dude’s black. African-American. Whatever PC shit is correct these days.

But he ain’t Merle, and he does know better. There ain’t no special colour you gotta be to be born stupid.

Daryl shifts in place, watches the two in front. They’re keepin’ their mouths shut, but he notices that the Asian keeps cuttin’ his eyes away from the road to look at the new guy, opening his mouth and then shuttin’ it again just as fast. Probably wants to remind him that they’re riskin’ their lives for nothin’. For nobody. 

They think his brother ain’t nothing but lowlife redneck trash.

All right, maybe he ain’t. 

Daryl ain’t exactly proud of the things Merle says, the way Merle acts. But he done more for this damn group that the rest of them combined, ‘cept Daryl himself. Who is it that heads out into the woods for days at a time, sleeping rough with one eye open, tracking deer and then draggin’ it back to camp so the damn fools can eat? Sure as hell ain’t that cop; he’s so busy makin’ moon eyes at the skinny bitch with the kid that he don’t even know which end is up. And it sure as fuck ain’t this motherfucker, fuckin’ T-Dog, with his fancy hightops still as bright and shiny as the day he bought ‘em. He ain’t crawlin’ through the underbrush, pickin’ ticks off his skin and lyin’ in wait for something big enough to feed all of ‘em to cross his path.

No. That’s him. That’s Merle. 

He’s also acutely fuckin’ aware that Merle bein’ gone might actually make things a little easier. On the group. On him. Shit, half his time is spent makin’ sure Merle don’t fly off the handle, hidin’ his damn stash and tryin’ to keep him away from that blonde bitch with the attitude so he don’t start humpin’ her leg and get himself shot by the old man for his trouble. Been like that ever since he can remember, spendin’ half his time bein’ impressed by the shit Merle gets away with and the other half tryin’ to make sure his big brother don’t end up lynched. 

He hikes up his ass so he can drag his oil rag out of his back pocket. Gotta do somethin’ with his hands or he’ll get up, start pacing again. His luck that’d be just when the Asian’d have to swerve to avoid one of the geeks, send him flyin’ and end up with a broken leg. Damn sure none of these idiots would know how to splint it. And who’d look for Merle then?

Daryl shakes his head. Got to think positive. They’re getting him back, and that’s all there is to it. And if not… he’s a damn good shot, and T-Dog is a big fuckin’ target.


End file.
